


Show It

by thilesluna



Series: That Lunael Collection [7]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Body Worship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, Lunael, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: Miles has doubts about himself. Michael wants to fix that.





	

Subtlety has never really been Michael’s thing so when he realizes Miles is pulling away, that they’re drifting after everything has been going so well, he doesn’t pull any punches. They’ve been together for months and he figures Miles is used to his bluntness by now.

“What the fuck’s going on with you, dude?” he asks one night while they lay in bed together. At Michael’s words, Miles sort of shrinks in on himself and shrugs.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid,” he says, which is total bullshit.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you,” Michael insists. “You’re pulling away and if you won’t tell me, I’m gonna think it’s something _I_ did.”

Miles’ head shoots up. “No! It’s not—you’re _perfect_ Michael. It’s not you. It’s—me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m not—“ Miles hesitates. “I’m—you’re _very_ attractive, Michael. Like, goddamn dude! You have like actual muscles and a flat stomach and—“ Michael sets down his book and stares, unsure that Miles is saying what he actually is. “You’re just—you’re too hot for me, to be honest. I’ve got too much belly and not enough muscle and—“

“Stop,” Michael says, holding up his hand. “Miles, stop.” He’s known for a while that Miles is self-conscious about his body. He never says it but it shows in the way he always goes to the bathroom to change, or how he asks Michael to turn down the lights when they have sex. Michael’s noticed that until they’re both too gone on the pleasure of it all, Miles is careful about where Michael touches and what he sees.

“I’m working on it!” Miles is saying now. “I’m going running and I’m on a diet but it’s—it’s a process and it takes some time.” He’s blushing and his face is turned away and Michael doesn’t know if he wants to smack him or kiss him because _how_ can he not see how fucking into him Michael is?

He decides that the best course of action would be to just _show_ him instead. He throws his book to the floor and slides over to straddle Miles’ hips. “Michael, what—“

Michael interrupts, laying a hand on Miles’ cheek. “You trust me right?”

“Of course,” he replies. His eyes squeeze shut when Michael strokes the swell of his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Michael says. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to Miles’ forehead and the man huffs out a laugh. “Just—relax, Miles. Just go with it okay?” Miles nods and Michael pokes his nose. “That’s better,” he grins. The next kiss lands on Miles’ right temple, then his left. Another set falls to each of his eyelids, another to his cheeks, one to the very tip of his nose. By time he reaches Miles’ lips, there’s a small smile pulling at the corners and Michael can’t help returning it.

The kisses were all slow and careful, some of them bordering on a barely there slide of lips against skin but he deepens this one, presses his mouth against Miles until he’s sighing and opening up to Michael’s tongue and his teeth when they scrape along his lower lip. Miles’ hands grip at Michael’s thighs and it feels _good_. They make out like teenagers for probably too long—it’s not Michael’s fault, honestly. He could live for 100 more years and he would never have enough of Miles’ mouth and the breathy exhalations he hears when they come together. He also loves the way Miles’ beard scrapes against his cheek when he sucks a mark into the pale column of his throat.

Michael snaps himself out of the kiss-drunk haze he’s fallen into because damnit, he has a job to do.

He moves lower, fingers dancing under the hem of Miles’ shirt and starting to lift it. Miles squirms, turning slightly to reach for the lamp beside the bed. “Leave it on,” Michael says and Miles freezes.

“Michael—“ he starts, stopping to swallow thickly, clear his throat. “I don’t— _you_ don’t want to see—“

“I know what I want, Miles,” Michael says, inching his way back up Miles’ body. “I know that I want you. I know that you’re really fucking hot and that I’m goddamn lucky to have you in my bed.”

“I’m—“

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Michael finishes. “So fucking beautiful. Let me _show_ you.” He kisses Miles softly, way more tender than they usually do, but in a way that’s been slipping out more and more often. It’s the kind of kiss reserved for people who are in _love_ and that’s not something that Michael wants to think about right now—but he is. He’s sickeningly, disgustingly in love with Miles even if they haven’t _quite_ said it yet.

When he pulls away, Miles’ eyes are still squeezed shut and his brow is furrowed but he nods slowly, sighs out, “Okay, Michael. Okay.” They make quick work of both their clothes, Miles blushing and stammering out apologies that Michael swallows in kisses.

“Relax,” Michael says again as Miles’ hands slide to cover his chest and his stomach. “Miles, seriously, do you trust me?”

“I do but—this is really _hard_ , Michael,” he replies. “It’s hard to think that you want me like this. It’s hard to get that you actually want to _see_ all of this. I’m out of shape and—” He gestures to his body and Michael catches his hand to press kisses to his knuckles. Miles sighs, running his free hand through Michael’s hair. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. Miles chokes on a laugh that seems like it was startled from him. “You’re so great, Miles. You have to know that.”

“Michael.”

“Miles.” He kisses his way up Miles’ arm, lingering at his inner elbow to blow a little raspberry there until Miles is grinning down at him. “I love your arms,” Michael says. “I love the way you’re always warm when you wrap them around me and how you can push me around.” He presses another kiss to Miles’ bicep, traveling up and up until he gets to his shoulder. “This patch of hair is fucking ridiculous but I love it too. It’s so _you_.”

Miles shakes his head, still smiling. “Are you saying I’m fucking ridiculous?”

“Yep,” Michael says, popping the ‘p’. “Totally fucking ridiculous.” He dips again, kissing Miles’ lips quickly before moving on down his chest. He peppers a line right along the hard jut of Miles’ sternum, pinching at his sides when he tries to wiggle free. “I love that you’re a little bit ticklish, but mostly just sensitive,” he says, mouth finding one of Miles’ nipples and closing over it. Michael lets the noise he makes hang in the still air of the room, relishing in the way Miles gets a hand in his hair, encouraging him.

“ _Michael_ ,” he breathes and when Michael looks up, he gets caught in the way Miles’ eyes have gone dark, his pupils blown and _man_ , is that a fucking sight. “Michael, please.”

Michael runs a hand down Miles’ side, just to watch him shiver. “I love your belly. I love the softness of it and the way it feels when we end up all tangled up on the couch because neither of us wanted to miss the end of the movie but we were so goddamned tired.” He leans in to brush his lips over the skin dusted with hair, not kisses but a slow drag that makes Miles squirm. “I like the way it moves when you laugh and how you feel pressed up against my back,” Michael goes on. He can see how this is affecting Miles, is only a few _inches_ from the proof. He slides further down, scrapes his teeth along the jut of Miles’ hip just to hear him gasp. It’s a good noise, one that goes right to Michael’s dick, so he does it again and then once more before he really latches on, sucking a bruise right over the bone.

“God _damn_ ,” Miles says, propped up on his elbows to watch Michael.

“I’m not done yet,” he replies, grinning. He makes grabby hands at the bedside table and thankfully they’ve been doing this long enough that Miles gets it. He grabs out the lube and passes it down the bed, only to have Michael toss it aside for the moment and go back to marking up the pale skin of Miles’ hips and upper thighs. “I love it when you wrap your legs around me when I’m fucking you,” Michael mutters against Miles’ inner thigh. “And the way they feel when I’m riding you. So fucking strong. It’s stupidly hot.”

“Michael, _please_.” Michael looks up and almost laughs at the desperation on Miles’ face.

“I love the way you beg too,” he replies smugly and Miles reaches out to smack him. He ducks his head, breathing out a hot breath on the space where Miles’ thigh meets his groin and grins stupidly. He reaches for the lube, slicking his fingers quickly and efficiently, sliding one along the underside of Miles’ cock, still barely touching but Miles makes a noise like he’s dying and Michael is pleased. “I love your dick, Miles. I know I say it all the time—probably too often, to be honest—but I do. I love that this is all for me. I like knowing that I did this to you.” He wraps his slick hand around Miles’ length and strokes him almost experimentally.

“Yeah, Michael,” Miles gasps, reaching down to get a hand back into Michael’s hair. “You fucking rile me up so bad all the time. Jesus, you don’t—you don’t even have to be doing anything,” he babbles. “Sometimes when you’re cooking or hell, even cleaning, I see you and my heart goes to fucking hyper speed.”

Michael laughs into the skin on Miles’ hip and presses a kiss to the blossoming bruise there. “I know what you mean,” he says. He tightens his grip, twisting at the upstroke and Miles chokes out a strangled sound.

"Oh _god_ ," he whines. His body curls inward, thighs shaking"Michael, fuck. m’Close. How am I so close already?” Michael wants to laugh but he doesn’t because just kissing Miles and touching him, getting to hear all the pretty sounds he makes, has got him embarrassingly hard too. He stills his hand and Miles groans. “Fuck, are you gonna tease me? Michael I’m not sure—“

“Not gonna tease you,” Michael says. He carefully releases Miles and slides back up the bed until they’re face to face. “I just—“ he takes a minute to collect his thoughts, get what he wants to say in line. “I just want you to know how I feel.” He leans in to kiss Miles, slow and sweet. “I’m not the best at _talking_ about this kind of stuff but if you’re feeling this way I’ve been doing a piss-poor job _showing_ you.”

“It’s not your job to coddle me,” Miles says. “I know—“

Michael puts a finger over Miles’ lips, smiles at confusion on his face. Now’s as good a time as any, he thinks. “I love you.”

“You w-what?”

“I thought I was doing a good job proving it without saying it—I mean, _jesus_ Miles, I’m so fucking gone on you it’s not even funny. “ Michael’s stomach twists when he sees the grin pulling at Miles’ lips, claps a hand over his mouth even as he tries to speak. “I’m not done, asshole.” Miles’ eyes are shining and Michael rolls his eyes. “Stop being so fucking cute when I’m trying to tell you I love you,” he complains. Miles shakes his head, moving Michael’s hand along with his face. “You’re _beautiful_. So hot it’s not fair. I love every single part of you including your dumb, swooshy hair.” He can _feel_ the smile under his palm and he can’t help grinning himself. “I fucking love you.”

Miles raises his eyebrows at him before glancing down at his hand. Michael removes it and is immediately pulled in for a messy, frenzied kiss. “God, you’re so ridiculous,” he says when they break apart. “I love you too. So much.” Michael kisses him again and swears he can taste the sweetness of the words linger on his tongue. He gazes down at Miles—actually fucking _gazes_ like a goddamn romance novel—and feels his heart skip, just like always. Miles looks back, mouth twisted into a smirk. “I think I’d love you even more if you’d get me off.”

The spell is broken and suddenly they’re back to being Miles and Michael with no heavy confessions hanging between them. “You asshole,” Michael laughs but takes him back into his hand anyway. It doesn’t take long, even with the interruption, because Michael knows Miles’ body— _loves_ Miles’ body—better than anyone. He works him steadily for countless minutes until Miles is panting, gripping at Michael’s arms, his sides, pretty much wherever he can with the way their skin has gone sweat-slick in the heat of the room.

He knows when Miles is about to come, sees it in the way his eyes are squeezed shut and his body goes taut. Michael kisses him, open-mouthed and dirty, keeps going until Miles his whining into his mouth and squirming away, the hand on his dick too over stimulating. “I love you,” he says again after he’s caught his breath.

Michael laughs, stroking his clean hand through Miles’ hair. “I love you, too.”

“That’s literally never going to get old,” Miles sighs. “I’m gonna tell you I love you like 80 times a day now that I can.”

Michael thinks he’d be _more_ than okay with that.


End file.
